Doll
by KyoxSakiFan
Summary: Break was hurting and Oscar was too drunk to care about the consequences of his actions. Post-Break's past chapters. Oscar/Break.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts! If I did then…well…I don't know. I'd be awesome? Lol Oh and the guidebook would have had NEW CHARACTER REF SHEETS. : ( Seriously, I was hoping for those…oh boo.  
Okay, so another one-shot (bazooka-d for not updating her other fics first). Sorry, sorry! Honestly I'll get to that soon, hehe! But first I wanted to challenge myself.**

**I wrote my guilty pleasure pairing: Oscar x Break. Yes, that's right. OSCAR X BREAK. And I actually MADE IT SERIOUS. OMG. How did I manage that? Well, you'll have to read to find out.**

**Also, this takes place post finding out about Break's past, so it's way earlier in the manga. xD Hope you enjoy!**

**Another note: I'm not entirely sure where Oscar's wife fits into all this...the manga didn't make it very clear when the whole thing with that happened, so...assume whatever you want. xD**

**Doll**

…

The alcohol felt warm and all too inviting as it slid down his parched throat.

Xerxes Break chuckled half-heartedly and swished the liquid around in his curved glass, savoring the taste of the mind-altering drink in his mouth. It wasn't a strong drink really—a fruity one actually, some kind of wine—but it was alcohol and that's what he needed right then.

"Ah, this is good stuff."

Break slowly turned to see his drinking buddy for the evening, Oscar Bezarius, downing another recently filled glass of wine. It was barely into the darkness of the night and they had already gone through two bottles each. Oscar was heavily buzzed, to the point where he wasn't necessarily all there, but he wasn't quite drunk.

Break, of course, was completely sober. The frustration would have caused him to pitch a fit if he wasn't so busy pretending to be drunk for the sake of saving the evening—Oscar was having fun, after all, so what right did he have to ruin that? It was none of the other man's business if he couldn't get drunk no matter how much he tried—and by the gods; he truly was trying that evening.

Apparently he'd been making some kind of sour face because suddenly Oscar was by his side at the balcony rail, swaying slightly on his feet, but otherwise appearing unaffected by the alcohol in his system. Oscar wasn't a lightweight, but he wasn't a master class drinker either—he did have his limits, he just hadn't reached them yet.

"Something wrong, Xerxes? You don't usually drink this much."

"Wrong? Oh my no, I didn't realize I'd had that much."

"Liar, you always keep track of how much you drink," Oscar huffed and leaned heavily on the railing, as if the wrong step would send him flying over into the Rainsworth gardens below.

"Is that so…" Break silently cursed his companion for being so perspective this particular evening—the one night where everything was out of whack and he just needed to revel in the numbness and old feelings clawing at his chest. He just wanted to feel, in his own way.

The light flush on his face—however forced, for Oscar's benefit of course—because somewhat genuine when Oscar leaned over and ruffled his hair on a sudden whim. Break frowned thoughtfully, remembering a touch that was so achingly similar in feel, so warm and comfortable that he'd do nearly anything to have it back again. His frown only deepened when he caught himself leaning into the touch.

Oscar, to Break's annoyance, seemed to have noticed his odd behavior. "Xerxes—"

"Really, I'm all right…just…" Break closed his eye and sighed, feeling the stress from the day begin to yank persistently at his weary body. His own honesty surprised him. "I'm just tired."

"From Barma's? I heard it didn't go so well. Care to tell me what happened? Everyone seemed to be worried about you."

"Oh really? Whatever for?"

Oscar sighed and turned so that he was facing the comfy room inside. It was obvious from the look on his face that he was frustrated with his friend, which was Break's intention—after all, once frustrated people would usually close in on themselves, leaving the interrogated alone.

That's what he desired the most at the moment—to be alone. He didn't know what had possessed him in the first place to ask Oscar to drink with him. Perhaps he knew unconsciously that it would be good to have someone there, someone to tell him to stop drinking when he lost track of the glasses, someone who didn't know what was going on.

At the same time, he really hoped that Oscar would drop it. He really didn't think he could handle to sit there and tell his story again this night. He didn't want to talk about that ludicrous Duke Barma and the information the man had to offer them, as well as the price he'd paid in turn. He didn't want to talk about his past, the Will of the Abyss, or the Sinclairs—

The glass in his hand shattered.

Oscar jumped, startled by the noise, but Break could only stare at the blood dripping from his hand and the pieces of glass falling to the bushes below. It was unnerving really, his lack of control. First the incident with Barma happened and he was humiliated in front of those he had no idea what to do with and now he couldn't even keep a straight face in front of one of his only good friends…

"Wow, you really did a number on your hand! Xerxes, what were you thinking?" Oscar tsked and gently but firmly led him back into the house.

Perhaps inviting Oscar turned out to be a good idea after all.

Break was ushered over to the couch and forced to sit and wait as Oscar stumbled over to the cabinet to get bandages. He had half a mind to tell the other man not to bother, that he'd take care of it on his own, but knew that Oscar would insist, so he stayed silent.

The quiet was deafening as Oscar made his way back over, reaching out hesitantly to grab the injured hand, as if awaiting to be attacked. Break as it was, had to resist the ever consistent urge to flinch and duck away from the hand trying to touch him.

Oscar frowned, "Xerxes—"

"Leave it," Break snapped, looking away as Oscar sent a disapproving, exasperated look his way, but continued what he was doing. No, he would absolutely not feel guilty, he would not—

He tried to relax, he really did, but there were very few people that he allowed to touch him openly, let alone on a night such as this one; mainly the Rainsworth's and Liam. He wasn't used to having someone else want to touch him at all, let alone so gently. Usually if he interacted with someone else he was sparring with the youngest Nightray brat that he actually rather liked or when he was fighting with Gilbert on the rare occasion they got into a physical fight.

He hated that any part of him disliked the touch, feared the consequences of that kind of contact.

He was so on edge that he barely restrained himself when he suddenly caught Oscar reaching for his hair, probably to straighten his bangs or something along that line, but it alarmed him nonetheless. "Don't touch me!" He snapped, nearly feverish with alarm. Only once had Oscar seen his face without something covering it—and that one time was more than enough.

Oscar frowned thoughtfully, hand still frozen in mid-air. Break silently cursed when he noticed a line of ugly red marks on the other's hand and knew without looking that he'd find blood on his fingers—he didn't even recall attacking him.

"Xerxes, is it really that hard for you to trust me?"

"Trust isn't the issue here," Break snarled quietly, thoroughly disturbed by his own behavior. He stood abruptly and moved to leave, needing to find a place where he could sit down and brood and drink and just _be alone. _Oscar however, was having none of that.

Break smacked the hand off his shoulder with ease. "I said not to touch me!"

"You were just fine when I was bandaging you!"

"That was a completely different situation."

"It shouldn't have to be."

"And why not?"

"Because I'm your friend!"

And really, Break considered, that was the whole problem with the situation. He wasn't _supposed _to have friends. It was bad enough that he'd let Sharon and Liam become so close, but now he had Gilbert, Oz, Alice, and Oscar as well.

He didn't want anyone else close. No one else—he couldn't protect them all, he couldn't—

"You don't understand," He choked out bitterly, swallowing the numbness in his throat. He reached out with his bandaged hand, staring at the blood on his fingers out of the corner of his eye and grabbed the nearest bottle of wine. "None of you understand."

"I know."

It was both comforting and annoying how patient Oscar was with him—it reminded Break a little of Liam when they were alone; the insistent fretting, the calm acceptance, the frown on his face because he was being stupid again…

He downed several gulps straight out of the bottle.

Oscar followed suit.

They both got cleaned up and settled down again. It was strange how easily they fell into a silent challenge of who could drink the most, not that it mattered to Break, but he would pretend anyway.

Unsurprisingly, it was Oscar who caved first when he went to stand from the couch and toppled unceremonially to the floor.

"I think you just forfeited!"

"Oh-hic-shut up, Xerxes!"

Break sighed quietly to himself and set down his glass with exasperation. Of course this evening would end up like the rest of them—him, completely sober—running around trying to take care of everyone else. He observed that it had to be about midnight as he bent over to help Oscar up, more because he couldn't stand the sight of him sprawled out on the floor like that, open and vulnerable.

He wasn't expecting however, the arm that wrapped around his waist and dragged him down.

He hissed with discomfort when his elbows hit the floor, but otherwise his fall was broken by a warm body, which was almost more unnerving. Break winced when Oscar's strong arms wrapped tightly around his middle, not enough to choke, but enough to keep him in place and prevent him from wiggling away like he wanted to.

"You're drunk, aren't you Oscar-sama?" Break pointed out, doing his best to hide how uncomfortable he was with the whole situation. "How undignified for a noble such as yourself."

"Xerxes…"

His one eye narrowed dangerously when he felt a hand begin to play with the end of his white shirt.

'_This is serious,' _he realized suddenly. He'd thought Oscar was just playing around a bit—they did wrestle occasionally when they drank—but it was obvious that Oscar wasn't playing around anymore.

"You're drunk," he said again, hoping that if he said it enough then Oscar would quit on his own and Break wouldn't have to resort to violence. His stomach still turned uncomfortably when he caught sight of Oscar's bandaged fingers—it was a pointed reminder of what happened whenever he lost control of himself.

It was a reminder he didn't need again.

After all, Oscar was _really_ drunk—he probably didn't even know who he was touching. Hell, even Gilbert had made a move on him once while drunk, it just couldn't be helped.

Sometimes being the only sober one really wasn't any fun.

"Stop saying that," Oscar mumbled, eyes closing serenely as he continued playing with Break's shirt. "So are you."

'_What a laugh,' _he thought, but didn't laugh because no, he wasn't drunk and no, it wasn't funny. Not one bit.

When was the last time someone had so much as dared to reach out to him like that, to touch him like that? Long before his first contract, this was a long time ago. So long in fact, that Break could barely remember what it felt like to be held intimately like Oscar was attempting to. He'd become so skittish that he barely let anyone touch him at all, let alone yank him into a situation like this one.

His glare only grew stronger when one of Oscar's large, warm hands finally slipped completely under the rim of his shirt and traveled up his back, massaging and rubbing as he went along. The other began to knead the muscles on the side of his stomach, as if trying to relax him.

Except it was only making him tense up more.

"Hm, you smell good."

"_Stop."_

He supposed however, that his command was hardly convincing when his back was arching almost in a starving manner into the other man's touch—the heat felt amazing on his skin.

"Xerxes…"

"Stop—!"

"You know…"

"You're drunk!"

"I think…"

"You don't know what you're—"

"You're beautiful."

"What?" Break would have reeled back with surprise, except well, he still couldn't move.

"I think you're beautiful," Oscar repeated, reaching up to massage Break's shoulders in a way that was supposed to calm him—it had the opposite effect, he tensed. "That was…the…the first thing I thought when I met you. You were…and still are…a bit like a doll."

It was the truth. He could remember that day clearly, despite the alcohol in his system. Oscar had gone to visit Cheryl and Shelly Rainsworth under the guise of Pandora business—really, he just wanted to see them, they were important friends to him, but fronts were necessary when it came to visiting women. He met them at the entrance to the Rainsworth gardens, where they were speaking over tea. He was intrigued to find them without their future heir by their side.

"Where's Sharon-chan? Studying?"

"Oh my no, she's playing with Xerxes," Shelly mentioned thoughtfully, waving her hand toward the other end of the property, "let's go check on them! I do believe it's time for mid-afternoon tea anyway."

At the time, Oscar had been confused. Of course he'd heard the story of the mysteriously cloaked man that tumbled out of the Rainsworth gate several months ago—it had been the talk of Pandora for weeks, after all, not to mention the rumors in town had been extensive. However, from what he'd heard about the man, he seemed like someone with a temper, dangerous and ready to spring…not at all someone you would trust around the future heir of your house.

When they rounded the corner however, he nearly bit his tongue with surprise.

"Xerxes, Sharon-chan, we have a visitor here to join us for tea."

"Oscar-sama!" Sharon cheered and began making her way over to them in an excited, child-like fashion. She slowed down however, when Cheryl sent her a warning look—it was inappropriate for a lady to act like that, after all, especially in front of other nobles.

And following her slowly was Xerxes, dressed in a garb that was rather common among the common people and with a slow, somewhat airy gate. By the time he reached them as well, Sharon was already wrapped securely in her laughing mother's arms and deep in a conversation with her grandmother.

"Oscar-sama, this is Xerxes. He's been taking care of Sharon while we're working."

"Hello," Oscar greeted politely with a smile, a bit startled by the man's quiet nature. He was confused when Xerxes did not grace him with a verbal response and instead greeted him with a brief nod and bow. On further note, his eye appeared murky and tired, as if just being alive was enough to exhaust him.

It was breath taking and yet so very sad.

"Xerxes-nii, don't you know how to say hello?"

"Do you," Shelly corrected quietly to the embarrassed little girl, who merely grinned with apology.

The man appeared shocked that Sharon had called him out on his silence, but hesitantly gave another nod, this time accompanying it with his soft voice. "Hello, Oscar-sama."

"That's better, Xer-kun! Oscar-sama is a very dear friend of ours, so you'll be seeing more of him in the future. It would be ideal for you both to get to know each other now."

Oscar watched as they interacted with the man, watched as Sharon clutched almost possessively to his arm, how Shelly smiled with pride at the two, how Cheryl giggled at the somewhat detached, yet affectionate look on the man's face.

With skin as pale as snow, an eye like fresh wine and long silver hair that was obviously well taken care of—no doubt Sharon delighted in brushing it out every morning, he could see her handiwork all over the man—Oscar decided that he'd never seen a man more doll-like in his life.

And he was still rather doll-like; Oscar grinned in his drunken haze as he reached up to thread his fingers in thin silver strands. Break was silent as he stared, but Oscar noted that his eye was still wider than normal.

He'd caught Xerxes Break of guard, how rare. He'd have to make sure to remember this for future reference!

The openness made him feel so much closer to his friend than he'd ever felt before and he reveled in it, knowing that it might not happen again.

Without even considering the consequences, he leaned in for a kiss.

…

It was a blur, but he still remembered it. Xerxes Break did not get drunk, no matter how many drinks he had. Oscar on the other hand, had been completely plastered and probably wouldn't remember a thing.

He remembered the way it felt, the way everything had spun out of his control. Normally he wouldn't let anyone so much as lay their hands on him, but he was just so tired…and Oscar was unknowingly giving him exactly what he needed, a night where he could let his mask slip and just be himself for once.

He needed a night to hurt and Oscar gave him that.

Break sighed slightly with contentment as he sat up in bed the next morning, staring down at the naked man barely covered by the quilt next to him. Break himself was naked from the waist down, having insisted on keeping his shirt on throughout the entirety of the night for obvious reasons—Oscar had been too drunk to question him.

He quickly dressed and left the room, making sure to remove all traces of his presence in the room. Perhaps if he was lucky, Oscar wouldn't remember anything from that night and nothing would have to change.

He'd enjoyed himself anyway; it was a taste of something he hadn't experienced in a long time. He wouldn't ever forget it.


End file.
